


Inconvenience

by chunni



Series: Dark Harry Hart AU [1]
Category: Kingsman (Movies)
Genre: Age Difference, Angst, Canon Compliant, Dark Harry Hart, For the most part, I'm Sorry, M/M, Non-Consensual Kissing, Pining, Possessive Harry Hart, Unrequited Love, kinkmeme fill
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-29
Updated: 2019-06-29
Packaged: 2020-05-30 20:06:28
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,545
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19410457
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/chunni/pseuds/chunni
Summary: You don’t get to choose who you fall in love with.Harry is forced to learn it the hard way.





	Inconvenience

**Author's Note:**

> Because of my love for Taron Egerton I rewatched the Kingsman films and stumbled upon an unfilled kinkmeme prompt I just couldn't resist. Sorry in advance, Harry might be a bit ooc. 
> 
> [kinkmeme prompt](https://kingsman-kink.livejournal.com/1185.html?thread=8609#t8609):  
>  _Harry missed the grenade on purpose, knowing Lee would sacrifice himself, as an easy way to get rid of an annoyance._  
>  Then he falls for the man's sweet, despairing son and learns what hell it is to utterly adore someone who will never love you back.
> 
> You see where this is going, so if that's not your cup of tea, please don't read it. 
> 
> (Btw: I'm no native speaker and it's almost midnight, so please let me know if you find any errors.)

**Inconvenience**

****~

~

~

 _The most painful thing is losing yourself in the process of loving someone too much_. Ernest Hemingway 

~

Harry wasn’t a bad man.

However, he did tend to use, or at the very least look at, methods that some might consider unorthodox. Others might say he was merely following his instincts. And whose sense for decision making could you trust if not your own?

In the end, Harry knew it had been necessary.

It wasn’t that he thought Lee didn’t deserve being part of Kingsman or that he deemed him unworthy of carrying the title _Lancelot_. Lee was smart, not only someone who could read a book and quote whole passages afterwards but also someone who had a vast general knowledge acquired through hands-on experience.

Harry had chosen him as his candidate after all and there was no doubt that Lee would be able to come out on top in the end. He had the skills, the dexterity and carefulness, that would make an impeccable agent out of him, someone the whole agency would be lucky to have.

Harry himself had been proud of him, at first.

Though, he had also thought these _incidents_ had been purely accidental at first.

When Lee’s face turned a darker shade in his presence, he’d blamed it on the sun. When Lee stumbled on his words after he’d asked him about his results on the latest tests, he’d thought he’d imagined the notes quivering like strings of a violin. When Lee’s arm brushed his while walking side by side, he’d barely frowned and soon forgotten about it.

It wasn’t until _that_ conversation that the terrible truth unfolded before his eyes, that Harry wondered how he could have been so blind for such a long time.

Lee had approached him, dark blond hair neatly combed back, suit well-ironed and without a speck of dirt, and wasn’t there the fresh scent of expensive aftershave wavering through the air? It was. But Harry didn’t deem it noteworthy as this was how Lee was always dressed in his presence. Perhaps that should have made him think.

“Harry, good to see you!” Lee smiled and maybe it was the way his eyes went wide and unblinking that made him look like a dim-witted idiot. He scratched his neck, laughed, and what was so damn funny right now? Harry felt a vein at his temple twitch and he had to resist the urge to tell Lee to shut up.

It wasn’t necessary because the laugh faded to a brittle chuckle. Though, Lee began leaning forward a second later and that might be even worse. His breath was hot and dense in a way that made Harry choke back a cough. “I, eh, I wondered if you could spare some time for giving me… private lessons… in s-shooting?”

The sparkle in his eyes reminded Harry of a little child unwrapping a Christmas present. He had always hated little children.

“I doubt that will be necessary,” he said even though giving private lessons wasn’t unheard of around the agency. Though, he couldn’t bring himself to do so. “If you keep improving at this rate, you’ll outdo me in a few weeks. Besides, I have a mission coming up tomorrow and don’t have time for… private lessons.” He almost growled the words.

“Oh, w-well.” When Lee turned around mumbling an apology, his steps were considerably slower, shoulders slumped as if he were carrying the weight of the entire earth.

 _Weird_ , Harry had thought then, skin itchy as if the size of his skin was too small for his body.

 _Shit_ , he had thought after talking to Merlin who had listened to their conversation from another room. “That boy’s got quiet the crush on you, hasn’t he?”

A crush. Lee was having a crush. On _him_.

What a horrible disaster.

~

After that day spending the tiniest moment with Lee became the most torturous ordeal Harry had ever had to go through.

Lee staying with him trying to get him to talk, _or maybe more_ , after the others had left the room a long time ago? Irritating as hell. Lee losing himself in thought, cheeks reddening with an ugly blush, while Harry was giving orders or advices? Simply dangerous.

In the end, he couldn’t let it go on. He couldn’t focus on missions anymore. His nerves and mind grew fickle as if someone was cutting holes inside them with dull-edged scissors. He made mistakes he hadn’t made before. He had once accidently erased an entire archived chapter of Kingsman’s history only to be able to restore it by a hair’s breadth.

It was terrible.

And Harry realised that Lee mustn’t become Lancelot because then he’d have to deal with this charade for the rest of his life and he couldn’t. He _wouldn’t_.

He wouldn’t because he knew what to do.

~

When Harry noticed the grenade hidden in the folds of the captive’s clothes, he still had time to prevent the detonation by shooting the man.

Or rather, he would have if he decided to do it. As it was, he didn’t. He merely lifted his brows, a motion too small to be perceived by the other agents, _by Lee_ , and it was easy not to say something, it was easy to wait.

There was a risk but Harry had never shied away from taking risks.

And he knew Lee well enough.

It was no surprise when his _former_ candidate began yelling, _Get back!_ , and Harry let himself get grabbed, pulled, pushed backwards, air vibrating of dust and desert’s heat.

The boom of the explosion burned his ears and the ringing faded only slowly. Though, it was more like the excruciating sensation of getting a bone set. A painful pang but short and necessary to heal the limbs. Necessary to move on.

Lying flat on the dirty floor, heart thumping in a much too steady rhythm, Harry Hart allowed himself to smile.

~

Michelle Unwin might have been pretty if it weren’t for the tears running down her cheeks and ruining the make-up she must have applied with outmost care. It hadn’t even been able to hide the bags beneath her dull eyes when Harry had stepped through the door. Now she couldn’t even pretend.

He tried to talk to her but it was like talking to a wall, as if a part of her was living in a whole other dimension.

“I don’t want your help!”, she yelled and Harry would have winced if it weren’t for his training. “I want my husband back!”

The husband that had been lusting after a colleague? A male colleague at that?

A part of Harry would have gladly explained the exact circumstances of Lee’s death and why it had been unfortunate but necessary. Though, there was a high probability that Michelle wouldn’t agree with him because she couldn’t believe that her loyal and gentle husband would even consider cheating on her. And she’d certainly cry and yell even more loudly.

It would be annoying. So he didn’t do it.

Instead, Harry let her indulge in her grief and sadness, Medal of Valor still in his hand, turning to her child, _their_ child.

He should feel horrible for robbing a family of its father and husband and for a second his chest did contract, an icy wave running through his body. Then he reminded himself that some sacrifices had to be made for the greater good, and what was greater a good than Kingsman? They didn’t need a distracted agent, he didn’t need a besotted puppy following his every step, as skilful as that puppy might have been.

The boy had reddish hair and the pale skin of his mother. He wore a blueish Christmas sweater, white snowflakes gathering around the collar, and yes, it was Christmas time, wasn’t it?

 _What a horrible time to lose a father_ , something whispered inside Harry. He didn’t care. Not really. He was busy trying to remember the name of Lee’s son and failing. Had he even mentioned it once?

Well. Sighing inaudibly, Harry bent down, and why was he even trying to talk to a child? It wasn’t as if he cared for the family Lee had left behind. Everyone in Kingsman knew the risks that came with being an agent. However, there was something urging him on like a humming engine inside his body and it was as if a rope was tied around his wrist pulling him forward.

“What’s your name, young man?”, he asked and the boy’s eyes rushed to meet his, an unusual green without the common specks of brown.

“Eggsy,” Lee’s son said and Harry resisted the urge to lift his brows. An unusual name for an unusual boy, wasn’t it?

“Hello, Eggsy,” he murmured, the name tingling his tongue.

He couldn’t say that he felt any different after talking to the Unwin’s. He might have poured himself a glass of Château Figeac that evening, but did he do it because he wanted to give himself a treat after such a nerve-wracking time? Or was it because green eyes burning with anguish kept popping up inside his mind hindering him from sleeping?

He didn’t know and, in the end, he didn’t care.

~

It began to change only a few years later, a process slow but steady enough to turn his entire world around. And, as much as he would hate to admit later on, unstoppable.

~

Harry didn’t know when he began checking in on the young Unwin’s life but it must have been sometime around his last year of primary school.

He hadn’t wanted to concern himself with Lee’s family any further and there hadn’t been the need to. Michelle hadn’t phoned the number asking for help and Harry doubted she would do it anyway.

When he searched the internet for a certain Eggsy Unwin, it was out of boredom after he’d broken his collarbone, an incident that was forcing him to stay in bed day in day out. It wasn’t because he wondered if the boy was leading a good life after his father had died so early- but wasn’t it possible to obtain mental deficits from a trauma like this?

Harry clenched his teeth. What a ridiculous thought to have.

However, it didn’t keep him from doing what he’d already begun.

His eyes widened when he stumbled upon the newspaper article declaring the winner of the regional under-10s gymnastics. A winner named Gary ‘Eggsy’ Unwin. There even was a photo depicting the boy, his hair shimmering like threads of gold beneath the light. Though, it wasn’t as bright as the smile on his lips, clearly visible despite the low quality of the picture.

Harry had despised Lee’s smiles because he’d known what to expect from them but Eggsy’s smile wasn’t like his father’s at all.

It was a nice smile, beautiful even, and Harry felt the corners of his mouth rising as his eyes roamed over the photo. He tried to ignore the part that wanted to see it in reality.

~

Harry read the first police report when Eggsy was about fourteen, the text short and unremarkable for the crime had been unremarkable as well. The policeman forced to do it probably hadn’t even raised a brow while writing. Who could blame him?

Shoplifting was something that happened as regular as it was relatively harmless. The only thing noteworthy about it was that it usually led to more crimes and more serious crimes at that. Harry frowned while smoothing out the paper. If Eggsy was shoplifting now, it was only a matter of time until he’d find himself in prison.

The black and white Eggsy staring down at him from the mugshot wasn’t smiling anymore, dark lines around his eyes that shouldn’t be visible in the face of someone as young as him. He glared at the camera as if it was the device that had killed his father and Harry felt a shiver running down his spine he couldn’t explain.

He lifted a hand to massage the spot between his eyebrows, right above his nose, and sighed.

~

It was like watching a car crash in slow motion.

The police reports kept happening, the intervals between them kept getting shorter, and Harry felt the odd and increasing urge to do something. It was weird how his thoughts kept wandering to Lee’s boy, sometimes even whirling through his mind while he was trying to sleep, a steady ache at the back of his head.

It was only when he went on missions that the thrill of a life-threatening situation forced away these troubling thoughts. He found himself going on missions even though the injuries from the last one hadn’t fully healed yet just to keep his mind off things he couldn’t change. Off _him_.

In the end, if Eggsy or his mother didn’t want to be helped, Harry couldn’t do anything. And he wouldn’t admit how often he was sitting in the armchair of his office waiting for a call or a message that wouldn’t come.

~

Until the day arrived when it did.

~

Harry hadn’t thought that the first time he’d see Eggsy again would be in front of a police station but having read the police reports, it shouldn’t have come as a surprise.

It was weird how his heartbeat quickened as he was waiting in the shadow of the building. It was weird how his chest tightened as if he were underwater, forced to hold his breath.

He’d seen him quite a few times in photos, not to mention the pictures of the security camera, so he knew that Eggsy wasn’t the sad little boy in the blue sweater anymore. In theory at least. Because when he saw the young man strolling out of the station, he couldn’t stop himself from gasping slightly.

For a moment he froze, eyes widening because he hadn’t realised that Eggsy must be about Lee’s age when he’d gone to Kingsman, and he’d always thought of them as somewhat similar looking because they did share half of their genes, didn’t they?

Looking at him now, Harry knew that he had been mistaken, terribly so, and how could he have made that mistake after seeing all those pictures?

Because Eggsy was _beautiful_. Breathtakingly so. The kind of beautiful that couldn’t even be erased by ill-fitting clothes or a ridiculous blue cap, and some part of Harry wanted to snatch that cap and throw it into the next rubbish bin _because he could do so much better_. The kind of beautiful that radiated like the sun’s rays not only from the outside but the inside as well.

And a part of him knew that he was already lost.

Harry almost missed the chance of raising his voice, thoughts twirling like clouds in a storm, lips quivering as he tried to grasp the words he’d wanted to say. He wasn’t sure if he would be able to manage it, stunned as if struck by lightning. But, somehow, he did.

“Eggsy,” he said and the name wasn’t only tingling his tongue anymore but also his veins, his body, his heart. His very soul.

~ 

Eggsy was a whole lot like Harry had imagined him to be and yet he wasn’t. 

He was behaving like someone with a criminal record would. He denied the mistakes of his past and hid his troubled mental state and the truth behind snarky remarks and crossed arms. Or at least he tried as Harry could see right through him. 

Because he knew about Eggsy’s past, he knew about his mother, his stepfather, his half-sister. 

Because he saw the love and admiration and warmth flooding through his eyes whenever he spoke of his family, tiny waves in the midst of a windswept green sea. 

Because he saw the man behind the act, the beautiful and smart and caring and so heart wrenchingly frustrated young man. And he _needed_ him to have a future as bright and successful as it could be. 

He needed to erase that lingering darkness in his eyes, in his soul, didn’t want to see this frown, this tight line of his lips, this mocking smirk. 

He needed to see him smile, a real, a genuine smile because he was sure that it would light up the room and perhaps his own heart, too. 

He needed him to be part of Kingsman because then they could work together and for a moment it seemed like the only and most important goal he’d ever achieve.

Maybe it was easier to achieve after all. 

When these unpleasant guys came up to interrupt their conversation, Harry wasn’t trying to show off in front of Eggsy. He wasn’t. 

~ 

Harry had never had a greater desire for ending a life through slow and agonising torture than in the moment Deanford Baker threatened Eggsy. It took all of his willpower not to snap, to rush to that house and take the first knife he could grab to shove it down that monster’s throat. 

He could only breathe again after Eggsy had fled the scene, and a quiet part of him wondered why. 

~ 

In the end, it _was_ easy to get Eggsy as his candidate. 

~ 

Harry might have drunk quite a bit waiting for Eggsy the whole remaining day trying to numb the weird tingles rushing through his body whenever his mind wandered off. He might also have reapplied some aftershave and, well, retightened his tie as well. 

He couldn’t deny that he wanted Eggsy to like him but he wasn’t sure how great of a scale this urge reached yet. And maybe he didn’t even want to think about it. 

~ 

When Harry did see Eggsy smile a genuine smile for the first time, he couldn’t breathe.

Because how could he when every particle of his body was focused on the miracle happening right in front of him? How could he when there were so much more appealing things to do?

Like taking in the way Eggsy’s face lit up with a brightness unrivalled even by the brightest stars, the way tiny dimples formed as the corners of his mouth rose, the way his eyes sparkled with an innocent joy that shouldn’t ever go away. A joy he’d probably lacked much too often throughout his young life. _Perhaps a joy Harry himself had took away._

It was as if the sun had decided to leave its place at the firmament to wander on earth spreading light and warmth and _love._ Harry was captivated, unable to do anything, let alone think. If someone had decided to hold a knife to his throat, he wouldn’t have batted an eye.

His heart raced inside his chest, a fluttery thumping he couldn’t calm, and it did long afterwards.

It didn’t matter what he’d do, struggling through mission reports, listening to music, talking to other agents about their candidates, reading a few pages of the book he’d bought a few weeks ago, his thoughts always returned to this moment, this picture captured by his mind.

 _His_ smile.

And it never failed to make him pause, breath hitching for a moment, tingles sparking through his chest and then his entire body like tiny fireworks. It never failed to tug at his own lips making him smile too, even though no one was there to see. It never failed to make him wish he could see it again, often, far more often, and a part of him knew that he’d never tire of it even if he were to grow a thousand years old.

It was that night when Harry was loosening his tie to go to bed that he realised he did not only want Eggsy to smile but to smile _at him_. Smile with him. Smile because of him.

It was that night that Harry dreamed of beautiful green eyes and a beautiful smile. That he dreamed of smooth pale skin and soft pink lips against his, a sweet promise of heat and contact. That he dreamed of blazing touches and a low voice moaning pleas and wishes he oh so gladly fulfilled. 

It was the following morning that the realisation hit him with the impact of a meteor. 

The realisation that he, Harry Hart, was utterly and irreversibly in love with Eggsy Unwin. 

~ 

Of course, he tried to hide it, tried to distract himself, tried to push away the feelings that soon were more suffocating than floating in outer space would be. 

Half his mind screamed at him to let go of the boy as soon as possible because he wasn’t more than that, was he? He was young, painfully so, and it was painfully obvious in both his speech and manners, too. 

Except when he said those oddly perceptive things that made him appear much more mature than most of the older men and women Harry had encountered. 

Except when he made an effort to speak and dress decently, and wasn’t it unfair how effortlessly beautiful he looked in suits and glasses? How beautiful he _always_ was, no matter the circumstances? Especially while smiling? 

And wasn’t it unfair how he always managed to get everything right in the end even though he was doing everything wrong at the same time? 

Wasn’t it unfair how Harry couldn’t even stay angry with him if he tried? 

Every time they met, every time they spoke his heart danced inside his chest as if it couldn’t decide whether to jump out of his body or disappear between his ribs. 

A part of him wanted to tell Eggsy, wanted to lay a hand on his cheek to caress the undoubtedly soft skin, wanted to follow that delicate line at his back with butterfly kisses, and wouldn’t it be wonderful? To be together, as partners, as lovers? Wouldn’t it be _perfect_? 

Often Harry found his fingers trembling, itching to reach out, itching to grasp Eggsy and never let go. 

Thoughts that had made him shudder in disgust at first didn’t appear that outrageous anymore as time went by. 

The flame of his feelings didn’t extinguish but burned more blazingly than ever. Worse, his urge to finally do something grew by the minute until it wasn’t just a whisper inside his mind but a scream, an ache inside his chest that made bile creep up his throat and pressed the breath out of his lungs. 

Every time he saw Eggsy laughing or smiling or even just standing with someone that wasn’t Harry himself, a red shadow threatened to overtake his mind.

At first, he’d only narrowed his eyes forcing away the churning of his stomach and wondering what exactly this pang inside his chest was. Soon he’d found himself hoping for a sudden enemy to appear and interrupt whatever unnecessary conversation Eggsy was having.

Soon he’d found himself hoping for a sudden enemy to appear and kill whatever person dared to waste Eggsy’s time. Time he should rather spend with Harry or exercising or studying to make sure he’ll get into Kingsman. 

Soon he’d found himself imagining himself to be the killer. After all, some sacrifices had to be made for the greater good. 

However, he never did something like that because he knew that loyal, compassionate Eggsy would be angry at him, even though he might get over it eventually.

In the end, he had to settle for glaring at the nuisance and swallowing his anger. 

How long would he be able to do it, though? 

~ 

It shouldn’t have surprised him when Eggsy failed the last test, the boy had spared a stray fox during a car chase after all. 

Nevertheless, Harry couldn’t help feeling as if someone had kicked him straight into the gut when getting the message. His mind was empty for a few agonising moments as if he didn’t have access to his thoughts anymore because something inside him simply refused to believe what had happened. It might have been his heart. His heart that had regarded the possibility of Eggsy being part of Kingsman as the only acceptable future. And now, without that, he felt as if he was trying to capture raindrops with a sieve. 

_Impossible._

Something inside him screamed, blood like liquid flames inside his veins, because how could Eggsy do that to him? After all Harry had done for him, after all they’d done together, why hadn’t he seen that they wouldn’t let him shoot his dog? 

Why hadn’t he just shot that fucking dog either way? Wouldn’t it have been a small price to pay to be part of Kingsman? To be at his side? 

Wouldn’t it have been worth it in the end? 

Harry knew he’d kill every dog on this damned planet with his own hands if it meant that he got to be with _him_. 

When he made Eggsy come to his home, there was an odd veil clouding his thoughts and the logical part of his mind acknowledged that he wasn’t, _couldn’t be_ , thinking clearly. But maybe he also didn’t want to. 

~ 

“...Limits must be tested. A Kingsman only condones the risking of a life to save another.” Harry was barely able to hide the disappointment that was surging through his body like poison yearning for a lost future. Maybe a future that hadn’t been possible anyway. 

And yet... maybe... a future he could still have. 

Looking at Eggsy, he couldn’t help but notice the coldness of his gaze, the tight line of his lips that reminded Harry in a terrible way of their first meeting. He’d even donned his old clothes as if he couldn’t wait to go back. Go back to a life of misery and failure, of grief and sadness? Go back and thereby abandon Kingsman, abandon _him_ as if they’d never met? 

Harry clenched his teeth as something cut through his chest leaving an aching wound that wasn’t visible but palpable all the same. 

What a horrible disaster. 

“Like my dad saved your life even though your fuck-up cost his,” Eggsy snarled then and Harry froze. “Or have you got him stuffed here and all?” 

Neither of them laughed. 

_I wouldn’t keep him around_ , something whispered inside Harry as memories rushed through his mind like flickering lights. His heart stuttered in his chest. _I didn’t care for your father. Not like I care for you, my love_. 

But Eggsy was wrong. Harry hadn’t ‘fucked up’, he had made a decision and a conscious decision it had been. 

He had decided to kill the man whose only fault had been that he had loved the wrong person. And now Harry was the one in love and the person he loved hated him for accidentally killing his father. What would Eggsy say, what would he do if he knew... the truth? 

A part of him wanted to laugh although there was nothing even remotely funny about being stuck with this one-way-ticket to hell. A claw clenched around his lungs and for a second he couldn’t breathe. 

How would this situation look like if he’d decided differently back then? 

“Can’t you see that everything I’ve done has been about trying to repay him?”

_I want to give you back the joy you lost because of me. Can’t you see what I’ve done for you? Can’t you see my anguish?_

Eggsy’s eyes, his beautiful green eyes, widened oh so slightly. 

His expression changed, the lines of his face softening, the tension of his jaw disappearing, his lips trembling as if he was searching for words. There were emotions flickering through his eyes like sparkling stars, too fast to name but able to brighten his gaze nevertheless. Brighten his gaze despite that damn cap casting a blurry shadow over his face. 

It shouldn’t have annoyed him that much and it certainly shouldn’t have made him act. But perhaps he was just ready to use every possible excuse to justify what he was about to do. 

When Harry reached out to flick the cap off Eggsy’s head, Eggsy didn’t react. It was only when it met the floor with a soft thump that his eyes narrowed, his nose crinkling in a way that might have been adorable if it weren’t directed at Harry. 

“What the fuck was that for, Har-?!”, he began but Harry didn’t listen. 

That decision back then had been his to make and he had decided to let Lee Unwin die. Eggsy had suffered from that decision, there was no doubt about that, but perhaps it had been meant to happen. Perhaps they had been destined to meet from the beginning. 

And if killing Lee was the only way that led him into Eggsy’s life, he’d do it over and over again. 

When he let the knuckles of his hand brush over Eggsy’s cheek, his skin felt even softer than he’d imagined it to be. Eggsy paused in the midst of his sentence, mouth slightly gaping. The last syllables floated through the air before vanishing, the silence vibrating of electricity. Harry felt him shivering beneath his fingers hovering just above his jawline and it sent tingling waves through his body. 

Eggsy’s gaze focused on Harry, their eyes locking. There was a split-second in which his eyebrows began to contract, his expression that of a man that could see but couldn’t understand _what_ he was seeing. Or maybe he just didn’t want to. 

In the end, nothing could have stopped Harry from giving in to the burning ache inside his chest, his mind screaming at him to lean forward. A simple motion, easy, often done. 

And he did it. 

He leaned forward to kiss Eggsy as if there was nothing easier, and maybe there wasn’t. Fighting something for a very long time and succumbing to it in the last possible moment should have made failure spread through his body like acid. But as it was, there was blessed relief above all. 

Though, it began to crumble when he felt Eggsy tensing up, lips sweet but firm, and if Harry hadn’t closed his eyes, he might have been able to see his eyes widen even more. But he had shut his lids, maybe because he had already known that he wouldn’t like what he would be seeing. Maybe because he had thought that it wouldn’t matter as long as he got the tiniest drop of his very own ambrosia. 

It was nice to notice that their lips really seemed to be part of the same jigsaw puzzle, the skin hot beneath his, and his soul flew to the sky. For a moment the man in front of him was the only corporal part of his reality. 

Then Eggsy pushed against his chest sending him stumbling backwards, eyes fluttering open, heart aching. Harry knew what would happen next. He could have easily stopped the movement if it hadn't been for his mind being too stunned to react, the thought alone having paralysed him. 

I didn’t matter anyway. 

When Eggsy slapped him, Harry knew that he couldn’t have used his full strength as he felt the tremble of his fingers even in the few seconds of contact. And a part of him relished the idea that Eggsy’s body didn’t want to hurt him. 

For the most part though, he didn’t feel anything, didn’t even wince at the impact. His mind was slow like old syrup, unwilling to confirm the recent events as reality. There was an emptiness inside him, but wasn’t it weird how something that wasn’t even there could hurt so much? 

His heart wasn’t racing anymore but perhaps that was because it had stopped beating altogether. 

Harry blinked a few times until his gaze focused, cheek beginning to burn, and he had to resist the urge to press a hand against the aching spot. When he raised his voice, it couldn’t have been more devoid of warmth. 

“That wasn’t necessary, Eggsy.” 

Eggsy looked at him as if he’d told him the Queen of England had been killed, head jerking to the sides as if he’d forgotten how to shake it properly. Harry felt his chest contract when he made out the expression of his eyes, his beautiful green eyes. Eyes that looked as if they were made of glass, shattered and put back together. There was something burning in them that didn’t seem right and for a second Harry felt a pang of... _regret_? 

“ _The fuck_ it was,” Eggsy whispered, voice rough and shaky and _broken_. He looked as if it hurt to breathe. “Don’t y-you...,” a shuddering inhale, “...god.” 

He blinked hastily as he averted his eyes, tense jaw tensing even more, and Harry didn’t think he’d ever seen someone looking more utterly and entirely helpless. The slap hadn’t hurt as much as this moment. He wanted to reach out, throw his arms around Eggsy and give him the comfort he deserved. But the logical part of his brain knew that he would make things worse and he _couldn’t_. 

Eggsy made a small noise that sounded terribly like something between a sob and a laugh. Then he turned around and he ran. 

The clattering of his shoes sounded like gun shots in Harry’s ears. 

When a beeping sound echoed through the room, it took him a few moments to know what it meant. 

He didn’t hesitate to take on the mission. 

~ 

South Glade Mission Church, it was. 

~ 

~

~

**Author's Note:**

> (I might write more if I feel like it but I wouldn't follow the second film and it would probably get even darker…)
> 
> EDIT: Writing that sequel


End file.
